Descent Into Darkness
by griffinscale
Summary: Tom Riddle-Lord Voldemort? Handsome, brilliant boy to a Dark Lord who split his soul and lost any resemblance to his younger self. How did it happen? This goes further and deeper than JK Rowling showed us. Into his mind; his metamorphosis over the years.
1. Magic is Real?

**Descent Into Darkness**

Disclaimer: Credit goes to JK Rowling for inventing this world that we play in; that we explore further in our writing.

Summary: Tom Riddle-Lord Voldemort? Handsome, brilliant boy to a Dark Lord who split his soul and lost any resemblance to his younger self. How did it happen? This goes further and deeper than JK Rowling showed us. Into his mind; his metamorphosis over the years.

Chapter One: Magic is Real?

No one ever tried to care for him. When he was very young, this saddened him, but he grew accustomed to it. He began to believe it was for the better; he did not need people. He could do just fine on his own, and caring for others would weaken him. He had seen it happen. Other children were sad when they had a friend, and more so when they lost a pet. Pets weren't allowed at the orphanage, but there was once a stray dog that lived nearby and was very friendly. They all loved him. One day he was hit by a car, and they cried.

Then Billy's aunt came and brought him a rabbit. She could not take care of her nephew, for she barely had enough to support herself, but she had raised the rabbit until it was old enough to be fed real food and become a pet. The orphanage at last gave into her pleas and let Billy keep the rabbit.

Tom rather thought the rabbit was a nuisance, always hopping about and chewing on things. Yet the orphanage put up with it because they didn't want to be accused of anything remotely similar to emotional abuse or deprivation.

Tom kept to himself, and this disconcerted the teachers who worked there, but they couldn't deny his intelligence and commitment. He was by far the best student, and he was top in all of his classes. In recognition of this, the English teacher secretly gave Tom a journal. "To write your thoughts in, or keep track of things. Record your ideas, your memories."

"Thank you, Miss Beaucovieur."

Tom did not often write in it, but when he did he reminisced.

He was jolted from his thoughts and from staring blindly at his open book when there was a knock.

The matron, Mrs. Cole, and an odd looking man came in. She introduced the man and then left quickly.

The man had long auburn hair and a long beard, and he was wearing half-moon spectacles- and velvet robes that were plum colored. He strode over to Tom and held out his and as he said, "How do you do, Tom?"

Tom hesitated, feeling wary, but then he took it and shook.

The man sat down in a wooden chair next to him. "I am Professor Dumbledore."

His wariness grew stronger, and he repeated, "Professor? Is that like doctor? What are you here for? Did _she_ get you in to have a look at me?" He pointed at the door.

"No, no." Dumbledore smiled.

"I don't believe you. She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!" He uttered the last three words forcefully, his eyes wide and glaring, but when 'Dumbledore' only continued smiling, he stopped and watched him carefully. "Who are you?"

"I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school- your new school, if you would like to come."

Tom leapt from his bed and backed away, his expression furious.

"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of course- well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you."

"I am not from the asylum," said the man with an air of patience. "I am a teacher, and if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you-"

"I'd like to see them try," Tom sneered.

"Hogwarts is a school for people with special abilities-"

"I'm not mad!"

"I know that you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic."

Tom froze, his face expressionless, though his eyes flickered between each of Dumbledore's eyes, looking for any sign dishonesty.

"Magic?" He whispered.

"That's right."

"It's… it's magic, what I can do?"

"What is it that you can do?"

"All sorts," Tom was feeling excitement warm his neck and cheeks. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

He trembled in his legs and stumbled to the bed to sit down, his head bowed, staring at his hands. "I knew I was different. I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something."

"Well, you were quite right. You are a wizard."

Tom lifted his head, glee changing his features. "Are you a wizard too?"

"Yes, I am."

"Prove it," Tom demanded.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts-"

"Of course I am!"

"Then you will address me as 'Professor' or 'sir.' "

Tom's expression hardened for the briefest of moments before he said politely, "I'm sorry, sir. I meant- please, Professor, could you show me-?"

And Dumbledore drew his wand and pointed it at Tom's wardrobe, making Tom jump to his feet, howling in shock and rage at the flames that erupted. Just as he turned on the man, the flames vanished, and the wardrobe was untouched.

Tom stared in amazement from the wardrobe to Dumbledore, then pointed at the wand and asked where he could get one.

"All in good time. I think there is something trying to get out of your wardrobe."

Tom looked frightened and Dumbledore told him to open the door.

He hesitated then opened it and took out a rattling box. When Dumbledore asked him if there was anything in the box he shouldn't have, Tom gave him a look.

Finally he said, "Yes, I suppose so, sir."

"Open it."

Out of the box came a yo-yo, silver thimble, and a mouth organ among other things, which Dumbledore said to take back to their owners, with apologies.

"At Hogwarts, we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have- inadvertently, I am sure- been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to allow your magic to run away with you… But you should know that Hogwarts can expel students, and the Ministry of Magic- yes, there is a Ministry- will punish lawbreakers still more severely. All new wizards must accept that, in entering our world, they abide by our laws."

"Yes, sir."

Tom put the stolen objects back into the cardboard box, then openly stated that he didn't have any money.

"That is easily remedied," said Dumbledore, taking out a leather money-pouch from his pocket. "There is a fund at Hogwarts for those who require assistance to buy books and robes. You might have to buy some of your spellbooks and so on secondhand, but-"

"Where do you buy spellbooks?" Tom interrupted as he examined a gold Galleon. "In Diagon Alley. I have your list of books and school equipment with me. I can help you find everything-"

"You're coming with me?" Tom looked up.

"Certainly, if you-"

"I don't need you, I'm used to doing things for myself, I go round London on my own all the time. How do you get to this Diagon Alley- sir?"

Dumbledore gave Tom the envelope that contained his list of equipment and told him exactly how to get to the Leaky Cauldron from the orphanage. "You will be able to see it, although Muggles around you- non-magical people, that is- will not. Ask for Tom the barman- easy enough to remember as he shares your name-"

Tom twitched, and Dumbledore inquired, "You dislike the name Tom?"

"There are a lot of Toms," Tom muttered. Suddenly he asked, "Was my father a wizard? He was called Tom Riddle too, they've told me."

"I'm afraid I don't know."

"My mother can't have been magic, or she wouldn't have died," the boy said, more to himself than Dumbledore. "It must have been him. So- when I've got all my stuff- when do I come to this Hogwarts?"

"All the details are on the second piece of parchment in your envelope. You will leave from King's Cross station on the first of September. There is a train ticket in there too."

Tom nodded, and Dumbledore got to his feet and held out his hand. Taking it, Tom said, "I can speak to snakes. I found out when we've been to the country on trips. Is that normal for a wizard?"

"It is unusual," said Dumbledore, after a moment's hesitation, "but not unheard of."

His tone was casual but his eyes moved curiously over Tom's face. They stood for a moment, man and boy staring at each other. Then the handshake was broken; Dumbledore was at the door.

"Good-bye, Tom. I shall see you at Hogwarts."


	2. Sorting

Disclaimer: Credit goes to JK Rowling for inventing this world that we play in; that we explore further in our writing.

Chapter Two: Sorting

When Dumbledore had told him of magic and Hogwarts, a tiny part of him hoped for acceptance and happiness.

But when he saw Dumbledore's wariness, he was discouraged. Still though, he picked himself up and refused to give up.

On the train he had sat alone and read a book, the ninth book he had read since going to Diagon Alley three weeks ago.

They got into boats, and when the castle came into view, he was awed.

Inside, there was a speech about the Houses, and Tom was impatient to be Sorted. They lined up, and finally "Riddle, Tom!" was called out.

Finally, this was _it,_ the moment he'd truly join the Wizarding world. He made his way up to the stool and the Hat was lowered onto his head.

He could hardly see the Great Hall, and the Hat slipped over his ears. He started slightly when he heard a voice.

"Ah, you are powerful, and you certainly desire knowledge; you love to learn. You also want to be accepted and respected. You have a very real thirst to prove yourself, to yourself and others. You want to succeed, and you want to be the best.

You would do wonderfully in…. SLYTHERIN!"

Tom walked to the clapping table and sat down.

"Riddle, is it? I don't know that surname- but you can't be muggleborn, can you, or you wouldn't be in Slytherin?" An older boy with white blond hair inquired. He wore a small silver badge with a 'P' on it. He extended a hand and said importantly, "Abraxas Malfoy."

Tom studied the boy carefully, with cold distaste, and almost didn't clasp his hand when he thought it was best not to rebuff anyone, particularly his Housemates, if he wanted to be accepted and eventually respected."

"Tom Riddle. My family's from North America."

They shook hands. "Ah, that explains it, I suppose." Abraxas' eyes held just a hint of suspicion but he seemed to outwardly accept it.

Tom blinked when food, _lots_ of it showed up on the plates and the table, and he paused. H e didn't want to look like a pig, so he ate slowly, delicately, savoring each bite, and he finished with a couple bites of fudge.

Abraxas stood and led the Slytherins to the dungeons where he whispered, "Potestas."

All of the Slytherins filed into a spacious room, and Tom fought not to show any awe at the size of the room and the luxury.

"Listen up, everyone! Slytherin is a House where only the best live. The most determined, the powerful, the ambitious. We must help each other on our ways to power and glory, on the way to achieving our dreams!

For instance, young Mr. Black is being mentored by Lestrange here. They are room-mates.

_Everyone must help each other,_ regardless of age, race, power, or any differences, any rivalries.

There will be _no _rivalries here, and _no_ petty disagreements and fights.

We will _not _have any problems with each other, especially outside of here. If there are problems, work it out, and come to me and my fellow prefect, or our Head of House. No one else.

Also, do not lose control. Do not fight or do anything that would get you in trouble. Do not lose House Points.

If you must stay or go out past curfew, do _not_ get caught. If you do, _you're on your own._

Yes, we are loyal and strong, but we will not tolerate stupidity. If you are caught, deal with the consequences. Do not argue.

However, if you can, _do_ say whatever you need, do whatever you have to in order to stay out of trouble, as long as it's believable.

If you and a fellow Housemate are caught, do not leave the other to fend for themselves. Support each other.

The rules are right there, on the wall." Abraxas indicated to the wall to the right of the fireplace. "These are all of Slytherin's rules, as well as Hogwarts'. Read them, learn them, have them memorized. Oh, and if you disgrace Slytherin, you will be punished accordingly. This will continue until you _learn._

I will leave it up to your mentors and other Housemates to tell you the finer points and to show you around the castle, and the secret passages."

Older students paired up with first and second year students, which Tom watched in unmoving silence, until Abraxas beckoned him over.

"I will be your mentor. Come with me." He led Tom down the hall to the right. "This is where the first year boys and their mentors sleep. My room is just here. Third room on the right. Watch." Abraxas pressed his hand to the door, and it seemed to go up in emerald flames that held tinges of lighter green.

Tom stepped back, and Abraxas laughed, which made anger ignite in his chest.

"Don't worry. That was just the first level of the privacy and protection wards. If anyone other than you or me attempted this, they would get a pretty nasty burn. Alright, touch the door."

Warily, Tom pressed his hand to the black door. The door's flames swelled.

"This is Tom Riddle. He is to be my student, under my watch, under my guidance. Accept him and allow him entrance from now on."

The fire flashed and _moved, _as if to touch him. Indeed, tendrils wrapped around his hand and stretched, then crept up his arm and continued until they engulfed the whole of Tom's body.

Tom felt nothing save for a tingling, then warmth coursed through his body as the fire colored white, and he felt so _aware _and _alive; _he felt as if he had existed for many hundreds of years and seen much, and he could sense everyone and everything in the castle- then the feeling dissipated and the fire retracted its tendrils, flashing again before disappearing.

Tom gasped and Abraxas glanced at him sharply, having averted his gaze to watch the door. "What?"

"I, I felt warmth and then I knew so much, and I was so alive, and I could feel every detail of Slytherin and the dungeons. The whole castle too, but not quite as deeply. I also felt as if I had lived many centuries and seen much… Is that normal?"

"Hmm. The warmth is, but other than that, no. Interesting, I've never heard of such a thing happening before. It's only supposed to flare up and turn white before going back to green and disappearing." Abraxas was frowning and looking at him carefully.

Tom was nervous at how the older boy was studying him, but he kept his stance normal and his face merely curious.

Abraxas seemed to decide to leave the matter alone, at least for the moment, for he unfurrowed his eyebrows and touched the door, then whispered, "Cupiditas." The door opened and taking a few steps inside, Tom saw that his bed was a "full," and that on either side of his bed was a nightstand. About five feet away to the left of the bed, there was a large wardrobe. At the foot of the bed was his trunk, sitting next to a chest. There was a desk approximately five feet away from the chest.

He smiled and noticed that the right portion of the room was identical, but the wardrobe faced him, on the right of Abraxas' bed. Abraxas was unpacking there. He noticed Tom looking at him and smiled. "Wait till you see the bathroom." And he led him to a door in the middle of the room, between the two boys' sides.

Tom's jaw dropped open. The bathroom was _beautiful!_ The floor was blackest marble veined with white, and the walls looked like emerald colored marble veined with silver. There was a wall separating two showers, toilets and sinks, as well as two Jacuzzis. The showers were large and the showerhead looked powerful.

He went to his trunk and grabbed black boxers and flannel night clothes, then undressed and sank into the tub with its jets and bubbles blissfully. Oh, he loved Hogwarts!

A/N: About the Jacuzzis, I know they didn't have those at the time, but this is a world of magic, and in the prefects' bathroom is something similar at least.


	3. First Day of Classes

Disclaimer: Credit goes to JK Rowling for inventing this world that we play in; that we explore further in our writing.

Chapter Three: First Day of Classes

Tom woke, ready for the day ahead, and he got dressed and nearly raced to the Great Hall in his excitement. He ate a gratifying breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, and orange juice before going upstairs to Transfiguration.

To his dismay, he saw the Transfiguration professor was Dumbledore, and his cheer ebbed, but he was determined not to give the man more reasons to mistrust him, and he _would_ do well!

He sat down near the front and didn't stir when another first year Slytherin boy sat down next to him. "Dumbledore," his voice was disdainful. "Oh, yes, he's absolutely brilliant, but _odd_, and he seems a little… too _fixated_ on being seen as a good and benevolent man. And…" The boy scoffed. "I'm Avery Lestrange. And you?"

"Tom Riddle, let's talk later, don't want to lose points," Tom murmured out of the corner of his mouth.

"Hello, class! Is everyone here?" Dumbledore asked genially, and he scanned the room. "Looks like it." Then he went into a serious, professional mode. He frowned at them as he said, "Transfiguration is a very specific art, which requires serious effort and concentration." At the looks of apprehension on many students' faces, he added, "But for today and this week we will cover the basics, then go on a bit further and do some actual work… Who can tell me specifically what Transfiguration is?"

Tom raised his hand.

"Mr. Riddle."

"Transfiguration is the study and actual art of changing something into something else."

"Very good. How does it work?" He asked of the class.

Again, Tom raised his hand and was called on. "As you said, it requires effort and concentration, sir. You must picture what you want to turn the object into, and you must _will _it to change. You must first see the change in your head, for it to be clear and work properly."

"Again, wonderful! That's ten points to Slytherin for correctly answering two questions!" He moved to stand behind his desk. "I will now demonstrate Transfiguring this quill into a dove." He flicked his wand and it became a dove. The dove looked agitated, flapped its wings twice, and then flew around the room before Dumbledore opened the window and it flew out. Dumbledore flicked his wand again and the window shut. "Don't expect to do this level of Transfiguration for a long time. First we will work on changing objects to other objects and build from there. It helps and yields better results if you understand what the object _is,_ what it consists of, and you must also understand what it is you want it to change into, and if there's any connection. For instance, that quill I turned into a dove was a feather, so it was easier to change into a bird. But even then I would _still _have to understand the bird, the dove.

Perhaps the book can help. Open your books to page 1 and read to page 10."

'To attempt Transfiguration, one must first understand the basics of cell structure and how things are formed, what is in them, like leather is made from cows…'

Tom thought all this to be fascinating, and he read eagerly, past page 10, to page 22, not realizing he had read ahead until he was nudged by Avery. He looked up into Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes, and then he had the most peculiar sensation, as if his mind was stirring, unbidden.

He focused on clearing his head, and the sensation went away, only to return two seconds later. Then he recognized the look in Dumbledore's eyes- it was the one he himself used when he was compelling others to listen to him or to tell him something!

But he had felt no compulsion of any sort, so it had to be something else… Was the man looking into his mind?

Suddenly he raised thick walls in his mind and concentrated on keeping them up, and then the odd sensation went away for good this time.

It was not long before class finished, and he was walking towards the door when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Irritated, he turned around and saw it was Dumbledore.

"You did nicely in class today. I'm impressed."

"You mean surprised? Why? Because I'm not from this world?" He whispered harshly, glancing around to check no one was around to hear.

"No, not surprised. It's a good thing you are motivated. I just wanted to tell you to keep up the good work."

'That's all?' Tom sneered to himself. 'Yeah, right.' "Alright. Thank you, Professor. May I go now?"

Dumbledore gave a brief nod and released him.

Tom had to hurry to Charms, but he managed to get there a minute after the other students. It was Slytherin and Ravenclaw this time, rather than with Gryffindor.

He answered all the teachers' questions and earned Slytherin thirty more points in the last two of the three classes before lunch, but was assaulted in the common room just before heading to lunch.

A taller boy growled, "You think you're better than the rest of us?"

"No. I earned Slytherin forty points!"

"Yes, that's wonderful, but _do you?_ So smug after you've answered their questions. You know you're almost strutting? Answering questions isn't everything. You're making the rest of us look bad, as if we can't answer them. You're making yourself look bad, like an annoying little know-it-all.

From now on, let us answer some questions."

Tom glared back at the boy defiantly, but then realized it was true, and he nodded. "Fine."

The rest of the day he had to stop himself from answering too many questions, and Slytherin looked happier with him, but he hated that he'd had to listen and back down.


End file.
